


Wish

by PlagueClover



Category: Original Work
Genre: Christmas, Curses, Dolls, Gay Sex, Grief/Mourning, Holidays, M/M, Magic, Wish Fulfillment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-14 23:30:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13018503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlagueClover/pseuds/PlagueClover
Summary: A year ago on Christmas Day, Caleb watched the love of his life go down in a plane crash. Now he’s a broken man, doomed to spend the holidays alone and crippled with grief. That is until he stumbles upon a strange little boutique where he finds a doll with the most haunting eyes.





	Wish

**Wish**

 

His heart felt like it was bleeding all over the floor.

His hands shook deep in the pockets of his hoodie. His eyes stung with his angry lament as he watched a plane glide low overhead - so low he could feel the force of its engines tearing through his quivering chest.

It looked like the same one. For a long, painful moment, he thought it was a vision. A fucking phantom come back to make him relive the worst day of his life in real time as if he wasn’t playing that shit over and over every fucking minute of every fucking day, awake and in his rare moments of sleep.

But then a couple on the street looked up in alarm, and he knew this one was real. It passed safely, and he could hear them mutter about planes always flying too damn low as they moved on like it was a mere annoyance.

Caleb swallowed hard. He tried to keep walking, but his knees were weak. He kept waiting for the crash, even long after the plane had disappeared into the distance.

He could feel it shaking through his bones and stopping his heart like it was still happening. The violent explosion that ripped through his world, the cloud of debris, the screams, the scent of burning flesh, the feel of flames bursting out at him: all that chaos still wreaked havoc in the back of his barely functioning mind.

He finally just let himself fall against a cold brick wall. He sunk down into a squat to bury his face in his knees and wrap his arms around his calves. A shudder wracked through his slight frame. His lips curled away from his teeth in a broad, pained grimace as a sob tore from his throat.

He didn’t know how long he stayed down there. How long his shoulders shook with silent cries and mournful gasps for air. It felt like hours, but could have been minutes before a faint, distant hum floated to him on the still, snowy air.

At first, he ignored it. His cries didn’t cease and every muscle in his trembling body still grew tighter as the anger and crippling grief raged through him.

It grew louder. It sounded like a man’s voice singing in a language he had never heard. The melody quickened with beckoning, hope-filled peaks and an inviting, whimsical flute solo that stilled his gasping cries.

He lifted his head. His bleary eyes flitted around the cobblestone street. It still reflected the horror of last year’s plane crash in a bloom of scars and missing stones. The imprinted wreckage went on for half a mile with only minor patchwork to keep it driveable.

It was the only thing left that seemed as broken as he was.

Caleb breathed a quivery breath. His gaze landed on the mouth of the narrow lane beside him. For a long moment, he just stared and listened to the melody.

Then, on shaky legs, he stood.

The melody softened. It faded tentatively, almost like it bade him to follow, but that was silly. Noise didn’t work that way. Still, he pulled his hoodie tighter around himself and shuffled down the brightly-lit lane.

It seemed to go on forever. He knew the street well. He’d lived there his whole life, but the further he went, the less he recognized. The shops seemed to change. They got brighter. The signs were more colourful and he began to see people through the windows, shopping away. People started filling the lane around him, just strolling and chatting merrily. He brushed shoulders with ladies and stumbled as children darted by in his path.

The lane grew livelier and livelier with every step. It wouldn’t have been so strange any other day, but this was Christmas. The whole shopping centre was always closed down and deserted on Christmas.

The scent of beeswax stopped him in his tracks.

He glanced in a shadowy window at the flickering display of a dozen honeycombed green and red candles. And just beyond them, were shelves upon shelves cluttered and glittering with trinkets and toys.

“You like candles?” Came a deep, weathered voice.

Caleb was too mesmerized by the mystical, glittering world of clutter to look. He just pressed his fingers to the cold glass and muttered, “I married a candle maker.”

“Maybe your candle maker would like an artisan candle holder for Christmas.”

Caleb swallowed. “He’s dead.”

His gaze flitted over to find a strange man in a wide-brimmed hat holding the door to the shop wide open for him. It was then that Caleb heard the music emanating from inside. The man was smiling beneath a fluffy white beard, and his wrinkled eyes held no surprise.

“We’re all lost souls here, child,” the man said.

Caleb’s brows furrowed. He glanced in the window again, but all he could see was the cluttered shelves. “Who’s singing?”

The man grinned. “Someone very special. Would you like to meet him?”

This was weird, but the scent of wax and the dizzying heights of whimsy in the melody were doing strange things to his rationale. Caleb pushed away from the cool window and slipped inside the shop.

The door jingled as it closed. The man disappeared down an aisle and called out, “They’re in the back. Just have a look around. See if anything strikes your fancy, and I will be right back with the little devils.”

It was hard not to look around; there was so much to see. Candles were everywhere. It had to be a fire hazard. Scents burning in the wax seemed to shift depending on where he moved, from cinnamon and cloves to vanilla, to applewood and blueberry pie.

Deeper in the store, the melody cut off and he could hear the old man bickering with a deep, lilting voice.

He plucked a nutcracker from its perch on the edge of a shelf. There were a lot of them, but no two looked alike. He ran a finger over the hand-painted face as his gaze slowly drifted over all the tiny, crowded figurines around him.

“Here we are.”

Caleb gasped in surprise. He whipped around and crashed into the old man. He recoiled back with a shout, only to hit the shelves and make the bells and nutcrackers rain down on his shoulders.

“Shit!” He tried to catch them, but fumbled and they clattered to the floor. “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry!”

The old man laughed. “Clumsy one, aren’t you?”

“Only when I’m having a heart attack.” Caleb cringed as he picked up the nutcracker. The little lever on its back had snapped off. “I’ll buy it, of course.”

“That was already broken. A little glue and it’ll be good as new.” The old man plucked it from Caleb’s hand and put it back on the shelf. “Now, you wanted to meet the musicians. There they are.” He made a flourish with his hand down the aisle.

Caleb stared, but all he saw was the cluttered shelves and the clean, dark carpet. “Uh...”

The old man’s arm drooped to his side. He let out a long-suffering sigh. “I could have sworn they were right behind me.” Then he shuffled off down the aisle once more. “Now where have you little imps run off to?”

“What a strange man,” Caleb muttered under his breath. He shook his head and shuffled in the other direction, into the next aisle over.

As he passed, a little Santa Claus figurine came to life and a quiet, mechanical Christmas carol began to play. He paused to watch as its eyes lit up and the belly bounced with mechanical laughter. Then he spotted movement in the corner of his eye.

His eyes darted to it. But there was nothing there. It was just another cluttered shelf. He told himself it was the light from the candles playing tricks on him, but there was something amongst the clutter that stood out.

A doll.

Haunting, acrylic eyes stared out at him. Plump little pouty lips glistened almost wetly from beneath cascading, liquid gold hair. The skin looked so real, Caleb expected it to be warm, but he reached out and ran his thumb gently over the soft, but cool cheek.

It looked like a young man. Everything about him, from the tiny freckles dusting his cheekbones to the golden embroidery on his black satin shirt, was so finely detailed to scale. It took Caleb’s breath away. The skill was so far beyond anything else on those shelves.

He delicately scooped it up into his hands. It was heavier than he expected. He stared into the pale eyes that seemed to stare right back. He sucked in a shaky breath and whispered, “Hello.”

He knew he was being silly, but he expected an answer.

“Oh,” came the old man’s voice. “You found one.”

Caleb lifted his gaze to watch the old man approach down the aisle. “How much is he?”

“He’s very special.”

Caleb had no doubt. “Did you make him?”

“Oh no,” The old man’s gaze fell to the doll in Caleb’s hands. He scratched the back of his neck and tilted his head. “He’s been around long before I was born. Before my grandfather, probably even his grandfather.”

Caleb winced. “So... Too rich for my blood, is what you’re saying.”

The old man smiled. “You don’t buy and sell a fella like that. When you need them, they’ll find you.” He did a wide-armed shrug and gestured at the doll. “I guess he’s yours.”

Caleb’s brows knit. His eyes fluttered with confusion. “What?”

“You should hurry and go before the others decide you need them too.” The old man winked. “Trust me, one’s bad enough.”

“But-”

“Go!” The man shooed him out the door. Caleb stumbled into the lane with the doll clutched to his chest. He nearly tripped over his own feet, and when he spun around back to the store, he faced a brick wall.

Caleb froze. His eyes widened and his breath caught in his chest. He stared hard at the brick, as if it would fade back to the flickering storefront it was only a second ago, but it didn’t. He looked back and forth down the deserted lane. The lights were dulled. The few odd little shops were darkened and silent with blinking ‘closed’ signs in the windows, and there wasn’t a soul to be seen in any direction.

But as his gaze fell to the liquid gold hair that spilt between his fingers, the scent of burning beeswax lingered.

\--

They meant well, Caleb thought as he ripped the construction paper sign off his apartment door. It had ‘Seasons Greetings’ in big, candy cane letters with a thick happy face sticker that just made it a little harder to wad up in a ball.

Jingle Bell Rock wafted down the hall. It grated on his nerves and he was more than happy to push his door shut to block it out. He tossed the wadded sign into the trash bin inside and for the first time since his little hallucination, he let himself breathe.

He leaned back against the door. He pulled the snowy knit cap from his black hair, and then slid down to the floor only for slush from his boots to seep into the ass of his jeans.

“Fucking...” He cringed and looked down at the wet hardwood. “Smart, Caleb. Real fucking genius.”

His throat swelled. His eyes stung, and that insidious urge to cry like a baby just made him angrier at himself. It was so stupid. Every little fucking insignificant thing made him feel like he was being torn apart from the inside. Like tiny, frustrated razor blades were hacking away at all the little bits that connected his emotions to logic.

He tossed a glare across the room at a black-framed picture on his coffee table. The big, toothy smile, the dorky-in-a-charming-way glasses and untamable cowlicked chestnut hair...

Luke. His little bohemian prince.

“I’m a mess.” Caleb forced himself to get to his feet. “And it’s all your fucking fault,” he told the picture. “I’m hallucinating now. Next, I’ll probably black out and wake up a week later wandering naked through Walmart.”

He paused in front of the couch and clutched the lump in his jacket for a long moment. He wasn’t sure whether he doubted it was there in the first place, or if he doubted it would stay there. Then he carefully unzipped and pulled the doll out.

It hadn’t changed, thank god. At least something about his little adventure wasn’t entirely fucked up.

So he smoothed out the liquid gold hair. His gaze drifted over the pale, haunting eyes, then he carefully set it down next to his husband’s picture.

“I didn’t buy him,” Caleb muttered, as if that dorky face could judge him. “I just... kinda found him. Or something. Whatever. I’m going to bed.”

He turned his back dismissively on the both of them and glanced at the clock on his way to his room. Only a quarter past eight, but he was done.

“Feels like this fucking month is never going to end,” he grumbled. Then he retreated into the darkness of the bedroom and kicked the door closed behind him.

\--

Cool fingers crept slowly up his inner thigh. His flesh tingled in their wake and his lazy lust twitched to life.

Caleb breathed a sleepy groan through his nose. He swatted at the wayward fingers and rolled away, onto his belly.

Slowly, his blanket slid down his back. Caleb chuckled and mumbled an unintelligible protest, and as the cool air caressed the gradually exposed skin of his ass, so did the cool, coaxing fingers.

Caleb’s body curled slow, and in a lusty breath, he panted out, “Luke...”

The name echoed, and the memory of it crashed down on him.

His eyes popped open. He jerked up in bed with a gasp. His eyes darted around the shadowy room, to lock on a sliver of light beneath the bedroom door. Soft music emanated through the walls, and the sweet scents of baking gingerbread teased at his senses.

He tried to tell himself it was his neighbours throwing him a little pity party. They were always trying to force their happiness down his throat. Always trying to stem the bleed of his soul with their thoughts, prayers, and charitable smiles.

Robbers didn’t break in to bake gingerbread, after all. Or did they?

He climbed to the edge of the bed and gingerly touched his toes to the frigid wood floors. He grabbed his robe and pulled it around him, but the plush black fabric did nothing to ward off the fearful chill. Even his shivery breath seemed to fog in the air.

His room shouldn’t have been so damn cold, but the temperature was the least of his worries right now.

He crept across the room. He stealthily pushed open his closet and pawed around, but there was nothing solid. So he snatched a belt and wrapped the tapered end around his fist.

He threw open the door. He lunged out through a wall of heat and light, to trip over his own feet and stumble hard to his knees. A stinging pain rippled across his legs as he forced his aching, unadjusted eyes open against the light.

Fire crackled in the corner of the room. For a stunned second, he thought his apartment was on fire, but when his sight cleared, he saw it was just a fireplace app on a big, wall-mounted TV.

He didn’t own a big TV. Wall-mounted or otherwise.

His eyes grew wide. Food was everywhere. Elaborately decorated cookies shaped like snowmen and elves were piled on a platter atop a red and gold runner on the coffee table. A Christmas tree sparkled in the corner and his kitchen was decorated to the nines in red and gold.

But there was no one there, and the music had stopped.

Caleb swallowed tensely. He knew it was his apartment. That was definitely his couch, despite the cosy white quilt covering the coffee-and-wine-stained cushions. That was his coffee table and his dark void of a painting hanging over the little dining nook. There, on the door, the chain lock was still securely in place.

His knees shook as he carefully stood. He turned in a slow circle and whispered to himself, “This is a dream. This has to be a dream.”

“Aye,” came a breath.

Caleb whipped around with a gasp, but there was no one there.

“A dream, it could be,” the voice floated in and out, distant and close like a tide. The words lilted with a light whimsy, but the voice was deep and solid. It breathed through his hair and tickled down his spine. “If that’s your fancy.”

Caleb’s voice trembled as he demanded, “Who are you? How did you get in here?”

A low chuckle rolled hotly against the back of his ear. Caleb gasped and spun around as chills rippled across his flesh. He clapped a hand over his tingling lobe and his eyes locked on a tall figure spread languidly across his couch.

Liquid gold hair draped down over black satin shoulders in shimmering waves and framed a narrow, square jaw. Pale blue eyes met his, so haunting and sad they plucked at his soul with every blink.

And Caleb could see right through him. Literally.

Caleb’s breath quivered in his lungs. “A lucid dream.”

“Or the ghost of Christmas past,” the phantom suggested with a wink.

Then the phantom stood. And with two long-legged strides, he crossed the distance between them. Caleb recoiled away with an alarmed cry as long, cool fingers slipped into his tangled black hair. Caleb’s back hit a wall. The phantom towered over him and he could feel the hot breath wash over his face.

Pale blue eyes searched his face. The man’s lips shone with the flickering light from the TV fireplace like they were painted with gloss. He pressed his palm to the wall beside Caleb’s head and leaned in so close, Caleb could taste his breath.

“You,” the phantom whispered, “wished me here.”

“I didn’t.” Caleb shook beneath him.

“I heard your soul screaming my name from halfway across the world.” Long fingers brushed over Caleb’s cheekbone and a thumb over his brow as the phantom cupped the side of his face. “You want the pain to go away.”

Caleb’s breath hitched. His eyes stung and his throat swelled. He hesitated only a moment, and then in a voice so small, he scarcely knew it was his own, he said, “Yes.”

The phantom pressed against him. He could feel it, cool and fresh as a winter breeze. He could feel the shape of its body, yet he couldn’t touch it. He couldn’t grasp it.

The phantom’s cool fingers curled around his ear. He could feel its words seeping through his flesh long before the phantom spoke them. “He left you shattered,” the phantom hissed, “inside and out. You bleed with every breath. You crack in webs with every heartbeat.”

Caleb inhaled with a quiver.

“Look at me,” the phantom breathed against Caleb’s open, gasping lips.

“This is a dream,” Caleb muttered unconvincingly. Phantom lips played over his cheek and his body curled in approval even as he refused to believe. “You’re not real.”

“Then there’s nothing to be lost,” the cool fingers stroked his hair. “Tell me what you want.”

“I don’t want to forget him.” Caleb stared up into those haunting eyes. “I don’t wanna smile and laugh when he’s not with me, I just... I just want to feel something that isn’t ripping me apart.” He searched that impossibly flawless face. “How do I make it stop?”

“Wish,” The phantom hissed.

Caleb’s thoughts raced and jumbled between panic and hope. It could be a demon. It could be there to strip him of his soul and send him to hell in a handbasket, but would that really be any different? He was already living his own personal Hell every single excruciating day.

He swallowed hard and sniffled in the air between them. “I wish you could take the pain away.”

A loud crack resounded through the room. Caleb jerked away from the wall. The phantom was gone. His eyes darted around the room as the flames on the TV raged and a sudden chill filled the room.

The oven timer screamed. The oven door fell open and cookies flew out. The quilt on the couch whipped into the air. Caleb shrieked and shrunk back into the corner. He shielded his face with his arms as burning hot gingerbread cookies whirled by.

A doll floated in the middle of the room: limp and still, just suspended in air. The cookie whirlwind billowed its liquid gold hair. Spiderweb cracks began to bloom across its painted flesh and it began to crumble.

The whirlwind ripped it violently apart until there was nothing left but shards and ash whipping around amongst the cookies.

“Stop!” Caleb screamed. He covered his head with his arms and squeezed his eyes shut.

Then everything just went quiet. He stayed still for a long moment, just shaking in the corner. He didn’t want to look. He wasn’t sure what he dreaded more: everything gone back to normal and it all being another hallucination, or if it  _wasn’t_.

But he couldn’t stay down there forever. So he braced himself and reluctantly cracked his eyes open.

And there, in the centre of the room, was a tall, blonde man with liquid gold hair that tumbled down over his arms in waves. His glistening lips did not look painted. His haunting eyes did not look acrylic. He wore nothing, not even satin, and Caleb could not see through him.

Caleb held his breath. He wanted to run for the door, but he was afraid. His wide, stinging eyes just watched in horror as the man touched himself as if to make sure he was really there. Then those pale, haunting eyes locked on Caleb.

“Tsk,” the man said. “What a mess I made. You don’t mind, do you? If I...” He snapped his fingers, and in the blink of an eye, everything was back to being clean and flickering and perfect.

The man strode towards him. Caleb shook. A hand reached out. He tried to shy away, but the fingertips brushed over his cheek and heat rippled through him. The man dipped his head down. He cupped Caleb’s chin to tip it up, and as their lips met, chills exploded across Caleb’s flesh.

His spine quivered. His thoughts shattered and his fear melted away. He let out a long, desperate sigh through his nose as a violent shudder of relief wracked through his slight frame.

The kiss spread through him, slowly sapping every inch of pain.

His body grew hot. He gripped the solid, bare shoulders and tried to keep himself up on his shaky legs. Strong arms snaked around his back and long fingers wove through his hair to curl against the back of his scalp.

Those warm lips pulled away. Caleb let out a loud gasp and shivered at their absence. He stared up, stunned, into the haunting blue eyes.

The man asked, “Does your heart still bleed?”

Caleb swallowed. “No.”

“Good.” The phantom let go and started to pull away.

That was it?

It couldn’t be. For the first time in a hellish eternity, Caleb felt  _something_. His body stirred. His heart bloomed and throbbed with a vibrancy he’d never felt before. He had never felt so alive.

Caleb caught the man by the sides of the face. He rose on his toes to capture the glistening lips with his own. His tongue delved deep into the man’s mouth and he drank of his warm flavour.

It felt like a drug. The relief pulsed through his veins like a sweet poison. He pushed the man against the wall and pressed his heated body flush up against him. “I wish...” Caleb sucked in the man’s hot breath. He could feel it coat his lungs like smoke.

A low, breathy chuckle rolled from the man’s throat. “Tell me.”

“I wish this wasn’t a fucking dream,” Caleb grunted.

“No,” the man purred. “That’s not the wish I feel seeping from your pores, you little devil.”

That voice... Every syllable plucked at his lust. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t form the words he needed to demand more. So he slid down the man’s body. He took the erection into his hands and wrapped his lips around the tip.

The man groaned. His bare thighs pulsed and his long fingers pushed into Caleb’s messy black hair. Caleb slowly took in inch by inch. He sucked at it with a determined ferver. He wanted to drink from it. He wanted that feeling to fill him. He wanted to suck so much in, he’d split at the seams.

“Ah!” The man bared his teeth. His haunting eyes rolled back in his head and he smacked a hand down at the wall.

Caleb sucked harder. He felt the man’s knees tremble. Fingers in his hair curled into a fist and forced the erection down his throat until he choked.

His eyes squeezed shut. The man grinded his hips up against Caleb’s gagging face. Strained tears stung at his eyes, but his body burned with sick approval. He squirmed and retched.

Then the fist released. Caleb jerked back with a desperate gasp and a trail of saliva stretched between his lips and the tip of that cock. He glared up into those haunting eyes to find them flickering and burning red with the reflection of the fire.

“Is that how it always feels?” The man rasped.

Instead of an answer, Caleb grazed the swollen tip with his teeth and made the man cry out.

The man's knees folded and he sunk down the wall with a gasp and a quiver. Caleb sucked the cock back into his mouth one last time. He rode the needy rise of the stranger’s hips. He grabbed them with both hands and took it in as far as he could, until his throat tightened in protest.

“Oh!” The man writhed. “Wait! I can’t...!”

Caleb pulled up with a cough and a gasp. He crawled up the muscular body and revelled in the feeling of the erection trapped beneath his weight. The man grinded up against him. Burning eyes drilled into his. Long fingers grabbed him roughly by the back of the neck and pulled him down into a demanding kiss.

Their tongues battled. Their teeth clashed. Caleb wrestled the man’s hands to the floor over his head and pinned them there as he shook his robe off his shoulders.

He nipped at the glistening bottom lip. Then he reached beneath him, wrapped his fingers around the shaft and guided it in.

The man’s pale eyes popped open wide. His lips parted with a voiceless gasp. He jerked an arm free to clap it down hard on Caleb’s ass as he thrust up into him. Caleb shrieked. Pain spiked through him and his body jerked rigid. He lost his grip on the other arm and those desperate fingers found their way to grip his thigh.

The man buried himself in to the hilt and held it there. 

Sweat muddled the scent of gingerbread. Caleb could smell the lust in it. He could taste it in the air and feel it in his kiss-swollen lips. They panted into each others’ mouths. And slowly, the man began to pull out and push back in with a loud, forceful grunt.

Caleb writhed. His body pulsed and his toes curled. With each thrust, he eked out a needy whimper. He grabbed fistfulls of the liquid gold hair and with each breath, he stole a suckle at those lips that still managed to send waves of hot, tingling relief pulsing through his body.

Fingers delved inside with the thrusting cock. He felt them climb up his walls and spread his stinging flesh further. Heavy grunts puffed against his lips, against his chin, and growled into the flesh of his throat. 

The man thrusted harder and harder until Caleb’s hair started to pop into the air each time. Gasps and yelps tore from his throat. He pushed himself up. He wanted a better angle. He wanted more of that force as if it could get any deeper.

Long fingers wrapped around Caleb’s erection and squeezed. He screamed. Pain and pleasure surged through him, making his teeth ache and his legs clench with all his strength. The powerful body beneath him bucked wildly until suddenly it slammed in so hard, Caleb’s whole body snapped tight and a ragged scream ripped through the air.

Cum shot from him. His body began to shake. He grabbed the man’s hips. He forced them harder against him as he bore down with all his strength. His head whipped back with a sharp cry. 

And deep inside, he felt en eruption of heat. The man let out a roar as he thrust in with two powerful, vision-stealing strokes.

Cum trickled down Caleb’s finger-scored thighs. He wanted more. He wanted to be so full he could taste it, but blackness teased at the edges of his vision, and he could feel himself falling.

\--

Caleb’s eyes fluttered open. He stared sleepily at the streaks of sun painted across Luke’s vacant side of the bed, and a small smile flitted across his face.

“I dreamed about another man,” he whispered. “I dreamed that he could fix me with a single kiss.” His smile faded as a deep, insidious guilt began to nag at him. “This is stupid.”

He forced himself up. He grabbed the robe off the hook beside the end table and wrapped it haphazardly around him, then he shuffled out.

The scent of sausages hit him. He froze just a step outside his bedroom door. His eyes grew wide as they swept across his living room, past the powered-down wall-mounted TV and quilt-covered couch, to the dining table piled high with a decadent breakfast feast.

And there, with a towel wrapped around his waist and his liquid gold hair tumbling down his back in damp little ringlets, was the man from his dreams, scooping eggs out onto a plate.

A smirk twitched onto the man’s face. His pale blue eyes soaked in the sight of Caleb for a long, curious moment before he murmured, “Shall I fix you again before we eat?”

The End


End file.
